So you have left us again. I used to cry on the way back after sending you off, but this year I have two young children that needed my constant attention, and I no longer have the luxury of glazing over the street lights while reminiscing our short time together.
I always feel like our parting hug leaves so much unsaid. I want to hug you like crazy, thank you for all the encouragement and positive vibes you pass on to me every time you come back. I am struck by how much you have changed every time. Or maybe I just never had the time and distance to admire you this way in the past. You continue to become stronger, more resilient, smarter.
Life has been tough on you for the past few years, but you never stopped your pace - you are still on the path you have chosen. You have admitted that there were some low moments, but you trudge on. When did you become so calm and grown up?
You inspire me to be tougher. To grow up and be decisive. To stop asking why and start thinking how.
When I complained about having a sty on my eye (again), you gave me
practical solutions (use the right facial cleanser, get the correct
eyedrops, warm compress) instead of allowing me to indulge in my
self-pity. Amazingly, this was the first time my eye got well without a huge pus fest or any oral medicine.
Your no-nonsense way of dealing with it made a huge impression on me.
Why harp on how terrible it was to develop a sty on the eve of a family
vacation, or wonder how the sty started, etc?
'It is what it is.'
When our flight to Bali got delayed and we were stuck at the departure lounge for eight hours, you took out your Surface Pro and got comfortable. You even tried to entertain a toddler whose mission was to run amok with no shoes the entire time. While my immediate reaction was to feel bitter and upset about the inconvenience of it all, you shrugged and said,
'It is what it is.'
You don't always say the easiest things to hear, but you do say the right things.
I wish that our day-long shopping trips could be a monthly thing instead of a haphazard annual one. I wish we could enjoy our favorite foods together at a leisurely pace instead of the heartburn-inducing stuff-every-childhood-food-memory-into-two-weeks affair that happens every year.
One of my favorite memories this time around was talking with you on the bed, with Baby Hannah eavesdropping between us. She must have enjoyed the girl talk too, seeing how she never interrupted and dutifully fell asleep only after the lights were turned off and you left the room quietly.
Sometimes I feel like crying when I think about how you are doing
halfway across the globe. God has been so kind to me by giving me such an
awesome sister; I pray that He will send you an angel like how you are
to me.
I hope you always have someone there to inspire
you, encourage you, comfort you whenever you need, like how you have
always done for me my entire life.
